A Magical World
by nerdreader
Summary: Dumbledore sees where exactly Harry's letter was addressed. 50 years later after his failed encounter with Tom Riddle, he gives Harry quite a different introduction to the magical world.
1. An Introduction

Harry Potter awoke with a shout, still seeing flashes of green light and hearing a women's screams in the background. His eyes focused on the faint sheen of the spider webs above him and the familiar darkness of his cupboard.

He reached up and grabbed the chain above his head, hearing the familiar creak of his cot as the faint light illuminated his surroundings, revealing the "Harry's Room" sign he had scratched into the wall with a broken nail when he was 7.

Opening the door, he slowly emerged the cupboard, rubbing his eyes and trying to fully wake up. Harry walked to the kitchen, putting a pan on the stove and began preparing breakfast for his guardians. When he was almost done he started the bacon, the sizzle usually brought his aunt downstairs to finish the food as he got ready for school.

Pulling Dudley's oversized shirt over his head and yanking the pants up his waist, Harry tightened his belt with a grunt. The familiar slick of the mail brought him to the door, smiling slightly as he remembered that today was his eleventh birthday. Giving the letters a once-over, he brought them into the kitchen and handed the pile to the enormous walrus that was already gorging itself. With a muffled growl, Vernon flipped through the letters and seeing nothing emergent, continued eating.

As Dudley came downstairs and his mother served him, Harry finally had a chance to grab the leftovers before anyone went back too early for another serving.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted the proceedings.

"Boy," his uncle growled threateningly, and immediately Harry got up to answer the door. As he got closer, he started to feel a sense a foreboding, and paradoxically, excitement. He pulled open the door, curious to see what was causing such an instinctual response from him. His gaze was immediately drawn to the magenta pants, and as his gaze slowly slid upwards, his lips twitched into a half grin as he saw the bright pink shirt and the white beard that stretched from the waist up into the face of a man almost twice as tall as him. The man was old, maybe one of the oldest men he had ever seen, with half-moon spectacles halfway down his nose and bright blue eyes.

As he met the gaze, he immediately called "Aunt Petunia!" slightly intimidated and knowing that there was something about this man that made him different from anyone Harry had ever seen before.

He could hear her sigh of frustration as the chair in the kitchen scraped across the floor and she stood up. As she walked into the hallway connecting the kitchen to the front door, she froze in surprise, eyes widening in surprise as she looked at the man.

"You" she whispered, sounding more fearful than Harry had ever heard her.

"Me" he replied genially. "May I come in Petunia?" he asked politely. Taking her silence as assent, he stepped in, hesitating just a second over the door frame. Now standing next to Harry, he smiled down at the boy, eyes initially focusing on his taped glasses before they met Harry's brilliant green.

Curious about the man who could intimidate his horrid aunt so easily, he grinned back.

"Good morning Harry, my name is Professor Albus Dumbledore." Harry opened his mouth, about to respond but was interrupted from a shout in the kitchen.

"You" yelled Vernon, waddling into the kitchen after finally getting curious after all the silence.

"Me" said Dumbledore again, this time without the politeness and with a sharp glance into Vernon's dull brown eyes, the larger man looked away. "I was wondering if I might speak to Harry?"

Vernon looked ready to argue aggressively against it, but with a tug, Petunia pulled him away. "Come on Diddy" Harry heard her say in the kitchen, pulling both her husband and her son out the back door and locking it behind them.

As Harry looked back at the old man, he heard the engine start outside and the spray of gravel as the car pulled out of the driveway. The professor gestured gently at the couches in the living room in front of the TV, sitting in the armchair as Harry nervously sat in the middle of the large couch, wondering who the strange old man was that he had been abandoned with.

"As I said before, my name is Albus Dumbledore and I am the headmaster of a very prestigious boarding school in Scotland." Here he smiled gently at the boy. "The very school your parents went to my boy".

Harry who had shifting uncomfortably until that point froze and gave the Headmaster his full attention, green eyes latching onto blue. "You knew my parents," he blurted out.

"Indeed I did, some of the better people I have had the pleasure to be acquainted with my long life," replied Dumbledore with a chuckle. "But now is not the time or the place for that discussion." Then suddenly, with a burst of energy, the old man fluidly stood up. "Come, we have much to do and very little time to do it."

Harry stood up, wary of a stranger, but desperate to learn more about his previously unspoken of parents. He followed the headmaster outside, seeing a stretch black limo in the street with the engine idling. Walking into vehicle past the door the headmaster held open for him, he sat on the seat closest to the driver as the Headmaster sat opposite to him.

"To the Leaky Cauldron Andrew" Dumbledore said looking to the driver before his gaze focused once again on Harry. As the car sped away, Harry leaned back in his seat, he focused back on the old man, trying to gain a measure of his surroundings again.

"Tell me Harry, what have your aunt and uncle" here Harry the slightest tightening of the lips on the old man's face "told you about your parents".

"Not much" Harry softly responded, feeling more out of depth than he ever had in his short life. "They died young, my mum was at university and my dad had joined the army. There was a car crash when I was only a year old, and while they died, I was able to walk away with only a weird scar on my forehead" he said brushing his bangs away self-consciously, revealing the lightning bolt etched into his forehead.

Dumbledore ignored it, his eyes still focused on Harry's. "There is a bit more to the story. Your dad was indeed training to be a soldier of a sort, and you could even say that I was his general."

Harry's gaze sharpened, reevaluating his opinion of the old man as the ambiance of the limo shifted slightly, suddenly becoming heavy before returning to the energetic feel he had become accustomed too. He frowned to himself, wondering how much his suspicions about the story his Aunt had told were true.

He was shaken out of his musing as the car suddenly came to a stop, not more than five minutes after they left Private Drive. The door opened, seemingly on its own as Dumbledore left the vehicle. Harry too stepped outside, and seeing the headmaster leaning against the side of the car, he joined him.

"Tell me Harry, do you see anything different about that storefront?" the professor asked.

Harrys eyes scanned the crowd walking past the building. "It's old, really old, and kind of shabby." In truth, he was understating it, afraid of offending the only connection he had who seemed to be willing to tell him about his parents. The store looked very out of place, with a sign hanging sideways from the front of a cauldron and a rod stirring itself as a bit of liquid dripped out the bottom.

He looked to Dumbledore, "it's really out of place, but no one seems to notice. And the sign especially is super weird, what is that, some new television? And no one seems to notice it, indeed the crowd was walking by in a rush, ignoring the out of place entirely. The businessmen and women seemed to not see it entirely.

Dumbledore smiled down at him, "not a TV no. Let's go inside, it'll be easier if I show you." The to two men, young and old, walked past the commuters, entering the grungy pub. The inside was only slightly cleaner than the outside presented, and they immediately found a booth in the empty locale.

A hunchbacked man hobbled over, inclining his head respectfully to the professor. "Anything to eat or drink professor?"

"Just a couple classes of milk, Tom" he replied, glancing at Harry to make sure that was alright with him. Harry nodded. Tom hobbled away returning not a minute later with two glasses. Dumbledore took a long stick out of the pocket of his jacket, tapping the table twice with it, before setting it down beside him. Suddenly, the room seemed quieter, as if it were only Harry and Dumbledore, and nothing existed outside their little booth.

Dumbledore took a sip before leaning back in his seat. Ensuring he had Harry's full attention, he began to speak.

"The world is more alive and strange than you can imagine my boy. Let me start with a complete introduction. My name is Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I am 109 years old, and if I do say so myself, one of the powerful of famous sorcerers of our time."

"My world, your parent's world, and now your world is a magical one." Here his eyes sharpened slightly as he saw Harry's eyes widening slightly. He grabbed his stick, jabbing it harshly at the table, conjuring a dove, the seemed to snap into existence, hopping closer to Harry as it let him rub a finger along its head.

"What you need to understand Harry is that the magical world is more incomprehensible, more amazing, and more dangerous than anything you have ever been exposed to." His want began to wave through the air as images appeared before him. Dark humanoid shapes appeared before him with sticks in their hands creating potions in bubbling cauldrons, casting spells at each other across the table, flying through the air on tiny brooms, creating animals and buildings from nothing. The show captivated Harry and his new dove.

"Magic makes us different from the non-magicals, or muggles as you will undoubtedly hear. We used to live together, in famous cities like Camelot, led by the famous Merlin and King Arthur, but eventually we split, and our worlds have become separate. A witch or wizard is different than a non-magical. While their world is ruled by logic, reasoning, and laws of nature, our only limitation is our imagination and our power. While science guides them forward, often the greatest magical advancements are made solely through powerful emotion."

He paused here, letting his Harry collect himself before he continued onward.

"The most important thing to a magical is freedom, freedom to practice magic and live as they choose, to conduct their experiments as they so choose. To a witch or a wizard, their magic is their life, and to control their magic is put bars of their lives. Most of us cannot even abide the thought."

But then he waves his wands again, the shadows changed to figures shoot brightly colored lights at each other, and images changed to death and destruction on battlefields. He showed Harry magicals facing off against each other, having battles of unimaginable wonder and danger, and then his wand twisted, ever so slightly and it was one wizard to one hundred muggles, massacring them with explosions.

"But some think that makes us better than muggles, so they treat them as pets, as less than us. I can't claim any innocence in this either my boy, we've all participated in it to a degree. To hide our world we control their minds, make them forget things they shouldn't know, controlling them and making sure they never become a threat. The truth is we don't know what the differences our between us except our magic, and while some believe we are gods compared to them, I simply believe we are different."

Here he frowned, looking sad for a moment, before looking up at Harry. "You'll have to make that decision for yourself." He put his wand back into his pocket, and folded his hands together on the table.

"Your mother and father were a powerful and influential witch and wizard. Your father was a heir to a long line of witches and wizards with a rich history. Your mother was the first witch in her family, a muggleborn. They fought against a powerful wizard who believed that magic made us better than the muggles, and that a bloodline of magic made a wizard of pure blood superior to the muggleborn. A man who didn't believe in equality, morals, and ethics, but who only believed in power and the survival of the strongest."

"The last thing I must tell you Harry is this, power is indeed important in the magical world. Wizards like Voldemort, myself, and if I'm right, even you have the power to shape the world the world as we wish, and convince wizards and witches to follow us on our path. In a world where the world can reshaped with a wave of a wand, the most powerful have no rules. You must always consider what kind of wizard, and what kind of man you will want to be, for the decisions you make with your power will define you."

He smiled softly a the overwhelmed boy, pulled his wand back out and jumped out from his seat. He waved it in front of him, changing his suit to a deep purple robe, covered in moving galaxies and stars and above his head, a tall wizards hat appeared. He smiled.

"But enough of that, let us move on to your true introduction into the magical world to which you have found yourself."

Harry stood up and followed the man, his mind abuzz with thoughts of the future and a sudden insatiable curiosity about the world he was about to enter.


	2. A Gryffindor Start

Harry looked up from Ron when the door opened. A blonde boy walked in surrounded on both sides by heavy mean looking boys.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. It's you?"

"Yes," said Harry slowly, assessing the situation. The boy had a bit of an obnoxious air about him, like he considered everyone else beneath him. He assessed his friends, the boys looked like bodyguards surrounding the smaller one.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

"And yours is better, is it?" Harry asked with a slight chuckle. "Ron's just told me he comes from a pureblood family, that's he got a brother as a curse breaker, another as a dragon tamer, three more here, one a prefect and in line to be Head Boy, and the other two very popular and brilliant pranksters. So far the only thing I know about your family is that you might be rich" nodding to the expensive robes. Harry took a step forward, getting right in the blonde boy's face. "So tell me Draco" he said, "what makes your family better than his".

Malfoy's cheeks turned pink.

"My father is a powerful man in the Wizarding World, he has the ear of the minister, is on the board for St. Mungo's and Hogwarts. With a word he can blacklist someone completely that he will never find a job in Britain, and can easily get you out of whatever trouble you might find yourself in."

Harry grinned savagely back. The door slammed shut behind the boys as their clothes started to ruffle around their bodies, pushed by a strong wind coming from nowhere. The temperature dropped dramatically and the lights above them began flickering.

"That's useful and all, but I was talking about magic. What can you do Draco?"

Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and even Ron were staring at him with a bit of awe and fear.

"I'm not interested in political power or money, I've got enough of both" Harry said, brushing his bangs away and letting them see the famous lightning bolt. "It's strength of character, ambition, and intelligence that matter to me." As suddenly as it began, the wind stopped, the lights stopped flickering, and temperature returned to normal. He sat back down. "So tell me Draco, still willing to claim your superiority?"

"Yes" he responded, after considering it a moment.

"Come back when you can prove it," said Harry disinterestedly, clearly dismissing them.

Draco sneered but turned and left. His bodyguards followed. Ron looked at him warily.

"You're not trying to be the next Dark Lord or anything, are you? Because that would really disappoint my little sister." He said with a wry grin, only half-joking.

"Nah" Harry chuckled closing his eyes. "That was just a show for those asses, sometimes the only way to beat a bully is to show him that you can be a bigger one."

"What about that stuff you said about my family, is that the only reason you're hanging out with me, hoping that I have the same talent?" Harry opened his eyes in response.

"You seem cool Ron, I mostly just said that stuff to make Malfoy shut up."

With that half-truth Ron seemed satisfied, grinning brilliantly at him and relaxing back in his seat. Harry closed his eyes again and shifted on the cushion, trying to get comfortable. That had taken a lot more out of him then he revealed and he needed to recover. He quickly fell asleep to the sound of Ron munching on their chocolate frogs.

He awoke a couple of hours later to the sound of the door opening.

"What's going on?" he muttered groggily, seeing Ron looking up as well from his Charms textbook as well. Surprised he glanced back at the redhead, wondering why he had suddenly decided to start reading.

"Have you seen a frog?" asked the short bushy haired girl at the door. "A boy named Neville's lost one."

"Neville Longbottom?" Harry immediately asked, latching on to the first mention of the boy he'd heard all day.

"Yes," she said with a slightly confused expression. "And I'm Hermione Granger, pleasure."

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley" he said pointing to himself and Ron respectively. "Would you mind bringing him by here? I'd love to have a chat; you'd be more than welcome to join us."

"Su-sure" she stuttered out, surprised and pleased. She rushed out to return a minute later with a pudgy boy in tow. Harry stood up and stretched, cracking his back.

"Harry Potter" he said holding out his hand to the boy.

"Ne-eev-ville Longbottom," replied Neville, stuttering as he beheld the intimidating hero for the first time and shook his hand.

Harry gestured towards the seat across from him and next to Ron. Neville sat down quickly. Hermione meanwhile plopped down on his left side with an obvious look of curiosity on her face. With her slightly oversized front teeth and her bushy brown hair, she looked a bit like an eager chipmunk.

"You're the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom, former aurors?" asked Harry, "Heir to the House of Longbottom?"

"Ye-eah" replied Neville still nervous. He paused and visibly tried to control himself. "Our parents were friends, weren't they?".

"According to my mum's diary, the very best, or at least our mum's were," replied Harry, relaxing back into his seat and grinning. "We're god-brothers." Not seeing any surprise on the boy's face "but you already knew that."

"Yeah again" Neville chuckled uncomfortably. "I just didn't know if you would want to be around a loser like me."

"You're not a loser Neville, at least not now that you're friends with the great Boy-Who-Lived" Harry said dramatically, flipping his bangs with as much flair as he could provide. Hermione giggled.

"Frie-e-ends" stutter Neville back.

"Of course, we have quite a lot in common," said Harry, his smile turning a bit sad. He shook it off. "But like our parents, we're going to be great." Neville smiled tremulously back.

Harry and Ron chatted about Quidditch for the rest of the train ride, with occasional comments from Neville and frequent questions from Hermione. Ron seemed content with the new friendships, having no fear of replacement by the insecure Longbottom or the bossy Granger.

Harry stood confidently in the group of first years, trying to ignore the burning tension in his stomach as he waited for his first formal introduction to the Hogwarts students. He watched Hermione and Neville get sorted into Gryffindor, and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle into Slytherin. There was also a cute blonde girl he kept his eye who went to Slytherin as well. She had an air of royalty about her, a confidence that Harry immediately liked.

Finally, "Harry Potter".

He strutted up to the hat, earning a look of disgust from the greasy black haired man sitting at the table behind them, and a slightly fond reminiscing look from the strict Transfiguration mistress handing him the hat. He sat down on the bench to the whispers of the students surrounding him and pulled the hat over his head, allowing the brim to cover his eyes. For a moment, there was blessed silence.

'Talent, power, confidence, ambition, bravery, intelligence, and discipline. Why you seem to have it all Mister Potter,' said the hat. 'But where to put you?'

'Gryffindor' replied Harry after only a second of hesitation, 'with my friends.'

'You'll make friends wherever you go boy,' said the Hat dismissively. 'This is about your potential and your future. About your greatness and your influence, are you willing to risk giving it all up so easily for a few people you met only hours before?'

Harry thought about it for a second, considering the kind yet bossy Hermione, the scared but obviously brave Neville, and the determined Ron.

'No,' he said slowly, 'I want more.' Harry felt a smug satisfaction emanating from the Hat. 'I don't just want to be happy here, I want to explore, to adventure, to accomplish feats of magic no wizard has ever done before. I want to change the world.'

'Then, I believe you know exactly where you should be going.'

"Slytherin!" called the hat.

And there was silence.


	3. Moving Forward

Harry ducked as a blue spell flew over him. His blood pumping, he rolled to the left before conjuring a flock of pigeons. With a sweep of his wand and a gout of flame, the Headmaster incinerated them before they got close. Jabbing his wand at Harry, the flames turned into a thin whip which he brandished attempting to strike the spectacled boy.

"Protego" Harry muttered underneath his breath as he twisted the shield into a dome that he used to protect himself from the strikes. It was draining, but his best option in the situation. He knew he could not dodge Dumbledore's strikes. As the whip dissipated against the shield, Dumbledore seized the advantage, conjuring two dozen knives and sending them Harry's wave with a flick.

Harry transfigured again, turning them to butterfly's. He made a tight circle with his wand, coalescing them into a large Gryffindor lion he sent charging down the pathway connecting the two opponents. Dumbledore frowned, moving his wand in a figure 8 formation and collapsing the animal into dust. He then started a complicated maneuver of swishes and flicks as the dust rose into a lumbering bear that charged towards Harry.

Panicking, Harry shot a Diffindo at the beast, beheading it. Dumbledore's frown turned into a sigh of disappointment as his wand moved faster than Harry's eye could see and suddenly he was trussed up and sitting in a chair. The headmaster, who had remained standing still in the same position in his office for the entirety of the duel sat down in his chair as well.

"What did I say when the duel began Harry?" he asked with a disapproving frown.

"Transfiguration and shields only professor." Harry looked down at his trussed up legs, frustrated with himself for panicking and resorting to simple spells.

"My condition for these lessons was that you would obey all instructions, if you are incapable of operating within simple paramat…"

"No! Professor I'm sorry, it won't happen again" Harry cut in. "Please don't stop the lessons. I know that I need to master intent and visualization before I can rely on power. I just panicked." Dumbledore sighed again.

"Maybe I'm asking too much of you my boy, at only 14 years old, you are well ahead of your classmates," he said with a small smile.

"Am I at the level you were at when you were 14, or for that matter where Tom Riddle was?" Harry asked back aggressively.

Dumbledore's smile disappeared. By 13, both he and Voldemort had already moved beyond simple conjuration and animal-animal and animal-object transfiguration into the more complex field of human transfiguration. In fact, by the end of their third year, both prodigies had moved beyond the Hogwarts curriculum. Harry, despite his extracurricular training, was still behind the curve. He wasn't as independently motivated as either of the two, instead only training to beat Dumbledore in the duels.

"No," said Dumbledore with a sad smile, "but we were the very best of our generations, and you Harry, as good and as fast as you are, didn't have the instinctual understanding and appreciation of magic we had. Tom started practicing his magic, however dark, before his sixth birthday, and mine before my seventh, you only gained control of your magic with a wand." He flicked his wand again, removing the ropes and allowing Harry to relax his aching muscles.

The Boy-Who-Lived cursed himself again for being satisfied with mediocrity in his childhood, for not trying to understand the difference between him and the muggles, despite being aware of it. It was something he had fought hard to change in his first and second years, competing with Hermione in every single class the first term until he moved into his own level leaving the rest of the year fighting for second place. But he knew it wasn't enough, if he wanted to achieve greatness, he couldn't just be the wizard in his year, or even in the neighboring years, he had to be the best wizard in the school and all the schools. He shook his head, shaking the frustration off, nothing he could do about it now.

"But neither you or Voldemort had my roguishly handsome good looks," he replied with a smirk, flipping his hair behind his head and showing off his startling green eyes which he knew the girls in the school adored.

Dumbledore chuckled, knowing there was at least a kernel of truth to his words. While he and Voldemort had never been interested in pursuing partners at that age, Harry was different, using his Slytherin bad-boy image to great effect to experience the wonders of Hogwarts broom closets with the beautiful witches in the school. It was this desire for companionship and human connection, so different from Riddle's psychopathic tendencies that gave the Headmaster hope that Harry would be different.

Although still a play-boy like his godfather, the Headmaster knew that his James's genes would shine through the boy eventually, once he found the right girl that is. Until then, he would simply enjoy McGonagall's rants about the various situations the boy found himself in.

"I think that's enough for now dear boy. Next week I will be testing solely your conjuration. Your lion at the end was lacking in definition, the hair too spiky and the behavior too mechanical, your control with the more difficult Transfigurations is lacking." With that dismal Harry stood up to leave. "Oh and Harry," said Dumbledore, looking over his half-moon glasses directly into Harry's eyes as he said seriously, "no more mistakes."

Harry nodded shortly and left the office, closing the door quietly behind him. As he descended the spiral staircase, his mind was a whirl, making plans for practice and figuring out who he needed to ask for help with his focus. Hermione was probably a safe bet, always ensuring perfection in all her spells, but she wasn't at the level he was yet, so his only option might be the prickly Transfiguration mistress. He smiled fondly as he remembered exactly why she had been so annoyed with him lately.

 _The brunette moaned as Harry's lips kissed her neck. Resting his left hand on her firm waist, his right hand slowly been moving up a taut stomach towards his true goal, a black bra covered breast. Pushing the annoying undergarment out of the way, he palmed her large breasts and rubbed his callused thumb over her nipple, enjoying the shivers that action invoked. As he started to lift her shirt above her head with his other hand, the door jerked open revealing an irate Transfiguration mistress._

 _"I could hear you two all the way down the hallway," her anger turning her voice into a hiss. Harry grinned mischievously at the professor._

 _"Only the end of the hallway, I thought for certain I was good enough to make the whole school hear Susan." As the redhead blushed furiously beside him, McGonagall's expression grew even more thunderous._

 _"Out," she stated through gritted teeth, anger forcing her to monosyllabic sentences._

 _Harry strolled out of the cupboard, hands in his pockets and thankful that it was the Gryffindor Head of House that caught him instead of his own. He likely wouldn't have survived that encounter, especially considering Susan's red hair and his own resemblance to his father. Susan fixed her clothing and quickly followed him, still looking down to hid the enormous flush that hadn't dissipated. McGonagall pinched her nose with two fingers._

 _"Back to your dormitory Ms. Bones. Rest assured I will be having words with your Head of House." As the girl rushed away, Harry grinned unrepentantly back at his professor, knowing she had a soft spot for him. "How many times must we find ourselves in this situation Mr. Potter?" she asked tiredly._

 _"Until such a time there aren't any eligible witches left at Hogwarts Professor," he replied. "Although considering in a few weeks we will have a large influx of new foreign students, that will likely not be a for a while." Seeing her disapproval turning to fury, he grinned and with a quick "Bye!" fled before she could act on any desires for punishment for his cheek._

Harry had been avoiding her the last week since the incident, hoping she would calm down. Aside from short glares in class, he had avoided any punishment besides two detentions with Filch. Hopefully she would have calmed down by now to offer him some help.

He strolled towards his common room, smiling at most of the students he passed on the way. Harry was fairly popular at the school, using his fame to great extent to build a reputation as a clever troublemaker, bringing attraction from most of the witches and admiration from most of the wizards, with some vice versa along the way.

As he entered the common room, he spared a quick glance at Daphne Greengrass sitting on Cassius Warrington's lap in the armchair facing the fire, feeling an irrational surge of jealously he quickly tamped down on. She had always been uninterested in the boys in her own year, and was now instead dating the brilliant seventh year.

He made his way over to Blaise, who was reading the Arithmacy textbook and writing some notes on a piece of parchment in front of him. Carelessly yet elegantly flopping down across from him, Harry pulled the parchment away from the boy and realized he was working on a new spell. He slid it back into place.

"What's this one do?" he asked curiously. Blaise was an absolute genius in the subject, crafting his first spell after only three months in the course, a hex that caused an opponent's fingers to be stuck together.

"Trying to build a good privacy spell," he muttered distractedly, "one that will make people hear what they expect to hear. But I can't figure out how to take what they would hear with the conversation and sync it up with the mouth movements of someone inside the bubble."

"Hmm," replied Harry. "Well, yeah I have no idea. Good luck mate." Giving the spectacled teen a short glance, Blaise rolled his eyes and returned to his work. Harry, bored, interrupted him again.

"How goes it on the Turpin front? Get in her knickers yet?" Blaise subtly grinned and cast 'Muffliato' quickly.

"Not yet," he said, putting his book and parchment back into his bag realizing he wouldn't get any more work done while Harry was here. "She's a little worried that I'm only interested in her because she's so fit, so she's been trying to make me wait and see I'm really interested in her as a person." He rolled his eyes. "I'll probably convince in another week or two and then move on." Harry laughed.

"Be careful with that break up mate, we both know she can right scary with her hexes and jinxes." Harry changed the subject, moving on to another topic that had been bothering him lately.

"Have you talked to Neville recently, he seemed a little distant last time we spoke," said Harry frowning. "There was definitely something up."

"No, but he might be shaken up from Moody's classes, you know he's been demonstrating the Cruciatus curse," said Blaise in response. He also made it a habit know most of his peers weaknesses, and the fate of his parents was definitely one of Neville's.

"Yeah, maybe I should talk to him about it."

"I'll never understand why you spend so much time on the Gryffindors," said Blaise, sneering ever so slightly. "Longbottom, political power and magical potential I guess makes sense, and we're all aware of Granger's intelligence, but what's with Weasley? He's always seemed kind of ordinary to me."

"You'd be surprised," said Harry in response. "Ron's definitely got potential for greatness in his blood, and he's a good mate to have around for a laugh." Although definitely less close with the Gryffindor students than he would have been have been had he chosen to be sorted in their house three years ago, he had made an effort over his first, second and third years to ensure their friendships stayed strong.

Still in a pensive mood, he bid his friend good night as he ascended the stairs to his dorm room and got ready for bed, exhausted from a long day of classes and his duel with Dumbledore. Summarizing his notes for the day in his diary, he quickly fell asleep.

It was a much more rested Harry that stood outside two weeks later with the entire student population of Hogwarts awaiting the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Impatiently awaiting the arrival of the students, he and Ron had been playing a game across the courtyard, seeing who could prank a fifth year Gryffindor named Cormac McLaggen more without being caught. By this time, the boy already had pink hair, bright blue robes, and a sign on his back saying 'Hex me'.

As Harry readied a spell to turn his shoes into rats, Snape swept up to the boy, and with a sharp downward movement of his wand, turned him back to normal. Sending a suspicious glance at Harry, but unwilling to confront him in such a public setting, he simply strode away. Harry meanwhile had refocused his full attention on the lake as soon as he saw Snape approaching, but looked back at Ron long enough to exchange a quick grin.

"Look, up in the sky!" yelled a first-year standing at the front of the pack of the students. Harry, along with the rest of his peers did indeed look and saw an enormous carriage approaching, flown by enormous majestic Abraxans. As the carriage landed and an enormous woman stepped out, Harry instead focused on the blonde bombshell following her. Nudging Blaise, he pointed her out with a quick movement of his eyes. Seeing Blaise's disbelieving look, he grinned.

"Fifty gallons if I get in her knickers before the start of next term."

"You're on," replied Blaise quickly, knowing that as much as Harry was revered in Britian for being the Boy-Who-Lived, he fame was not nearly as influential in France. Harry would have to rely on charm online to seduce the beautiful seventh year, and suspecting the girl was at least part-veela, he knew his friend had no chance.

"But we both know whose knicker's you'd rather be getting in," he whispered to Harry, making a subtle head gesture to the blonde bombshell in their own year. Slightly intimidated by the fierce glare Harry sent him in return, he changed the subject. "What's that coming out of the lake?"

Harry looked and saw an enormous ship rising out of its depth. As the plank hit the ground and who he assumed were the Durmstrang students approached the school, he noted their military and disciplined walk, posture straight and hands behind their back. Their headmaster on the other hand, an oily former Death Eater named Karkaroff, was out of formation as he walked forward to greet Dumbledore with a handshake.

As they too walked into the school, followed by the rest of Hogwarts, Harry reflected that this was indeed going to be a good year.


End file.
